


Found Love

by chokingonwhys



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: A little angst but not too much, Adoption, And There Are Some Horses, Babies, Brief Mild Sensuality, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Minor Character Death, Modern Era, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-06 19:59:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15893085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chokingonwhys/pseuds/chokingonwhys
Summary: A handful of snippets and vignettes about Daeron, Maglor, and the daughter that fate brought into their lives.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elvntari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elvntari/gifts).



> Inspired by [this phenomenal artwork](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.deviantart.com%2Flemonmu%2Fart%2FTolkien-Reverse-Summer-Bang-762807509%3Fga_submit_new%3D10%253A1536218363&t=M2U3ZjYxYmE5YTYyNzAxYjQ5NjU5YWQ4ZjBmZTExZDI0OTYyNmQwMCwxWGtFd0NUZA%3D%3D&b=t%3AEUdzoY8h_eZGGvd-hp_rgA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fmywoesaregranular.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F177809493196&m=1) by em-cu on Tumblr!  
> 

Maglor's wife was one who laid down arms at Sirion. She didn't turn against her comrades but she refused to fight on. Time slowed to syrup as she found herself facing a gangly adolescent grimly stomping toward her, gripping an axe with youthful determination. Quietly she slipped away down a crooked alley and disappeared into the choking smoke. She was not seen again alive, but neither was her body ever found.

(Orcs didn't often leave corpses behind anymore; meat became scarce as the Host of the Valar pressed them farther and farther north.)  


Maglor missed her, of course, but it had been centuries since they'd regarded each other with anything more than warm cordiality. Had they not been bonded in marriage, they would not have been friends. Having no little brothers left to care for, he threw himself into the nurturing of two solemn little orphans, their eyes already wiser than his had been when he married. He tried hard to see them as his penance but privately he could never convince himself that they weren't a consolation and a gift.

\----

Daeron couldn't live with himself after Luthien fled, but he couldn't quite die either. He wandered the woods listlessly, singing himself into dreams, until the Girdle fell. Then he struck out eastward. He learned to fight, and he fought viciously when he had to, but he wasn't much interested in engaging the enemy when he could hide, or just run. _Coward_ , his mind accused with cruel self-awareness: sometimes in a whisper, sometimes in a roar. He made his way to the Ered Luin with the Sea creeping up behind him and Beleriand crumbling at his heels. It seemed the very land condemned his perfidy. 

He wept on the new shore, keening and murmuring an elegy for Doriath. Often the wind in the cliffs threw back an echo, sometimes harmonizing, occasionally improvising around his melody, but he never saw a living creature but the raucous gulls. Grief swelled and billowed, then abruptly ebbed. Clear-headed, he set out to live the new life he now found he could begin to face. No one here knew him, and the country was green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2018. I'm mywoesaregranular on Tumblr ♥


	2. Chapter 2

"It's not that I don't want to hold it," Daeron said, though his dubious tone gave the lie to his claim. 

Maglor flashed him a look of benign irritation. "You're getting worked up over nothing." He returned his gaze to the newborn in his arms, murmuring, "It's not that difficult; she's perfectly safe. You won't hurt her, and she certainly won't hurt you." He glanced back up in time to see Daeron's quick head shake.

"I'm not nervous, not at all. That's not it at all." 

"Well, then, what is it? She's perfectly lovely," he smiled, addressing the baby once again. "You are. You're a lovely little lady and you're so happy and small and warm, and everyone loves you so much."

Daeron turned away with one arm crossed across his midsection, uncharacteristically diffident. "I'd just rather not."

The baby's mother, returning from the kitchen with a fresh cup of tea, replied, "If she's a bother I don't want to impose. Here, give her to me." She extended the arm not carrying a mug of steaming tea, while trying to set the tea down, and nearly overbalanced. 

Daeron darted over to steady her and take the tea, placing it lightly on the end table. "You know you should have let us get that."

"No!" She gave a halfhearted laugh. "No, you're my best friend; I won't have you be my caretaker as well."

"That's ridiculous," he chided, "I _am_ your best friend and I _want_ to care for you. Do you want a snack? There's still one more muffin from this morning. Or is your stomach...?" 

She leaned heavily on the arm of the sofa before dropping into the nest of pillows piled up on one side. "No, I'm not feeling so ill this evening. Just... tired."

As if cued by her mother's admission, the baby began to gurgle and fret, her complaints escalating rapidly to sharp cries. She wriggled, clumsy and uncoordinated, and Maglor shuffled her in his arms.

"Here, I think she really might want you," he began, almost plaintively.

"Yes, she's hungry. Come here my darling," she cooed, struggling to sit up fully. Maglor crossed to deposit the baby into Gwen's arms, almost making the transfer without fumbling. The child flopped toward her mother as soon as she was in reach, and Gwen cradled her close for a moment, head bowing to brush her lips against the crown of her little head. "My sweet love. You're everything I've ever wanted."

Maglor turned to Daeron, pulling him around a corner into the kitchen as Gwen held the baby close and began feeding her. "What's wrong with you," he hissed, eyes narrowed, "why are you doing this? I'll not let you make Gwen feel like a burden, like an inconvenience. You heard her. She already thinks she's imposing on us when we _offer_ to come keep her company." He glanced back into the living room, where Gwen was murmuring gently to her daughter. His voice dropped to the barest whisper. "And we both know she needs more than just company. No one's heard from her family in how long...?"

"Yes, I know! Valar. I damn well know." Daeron ran his hands over his face and through his hair. He forced himself to keep his voice calm. "I know." He peered up at Maglor, eyes haunted. "You can't see what the issue is."

"No, I bloody can't!"

Daeron wrapped both arms around himself and stalked off down the hall. "I know you can't."

"Well if you know so much - " Maglor started to call after him, but held himself in check, equal parts irritated and worried. He occupied himself with his own cup of tea, assuring himself that Daeron would stop feeling sorry for himself soon enough.

 

\---

 

In the tawny light of late afternoon Daeron's cheek slid against Maglor's as his lips brushed his ear, his eyes. Honey-colored hair fell across Maglor's face, shutting out the world. Only the two of them were real. Daeron pressed his face into Maglor's neck and rubbed against his jaw like a cat. Maglor gasped, tensing the slightest bit, his eyes falling shut. "Is that okay?" whispered Daeron.  


"Mmhmm," Maglor's head rolled sideways in a small, dreamy nod. Daeron's breath came slow and heavy, his entire being entranced by Maglor's warm vitality.

 

\---

 

Daeron twitched impatiently. He wore his 'you-should-know-better' face. "Lucy. Really, now, her name... doesn't bring anything to mind? Doesn't seem a bit ironic? A bit on the nose?"

Maglor rolled his eyes. "I'm going to whack you _on the nose_ if you don't stop being ridiculous. I love you but cryptic does not look good on you. And neither does - " He stopped. "Well, wistful gazing into the middle distance does rather suit you." At this Daeron preened, only a little. "But just tell me. Just... come on."

Daeron rolled the words around in his mouth. His eyes scrunched closed and he squirmed. He, once the uncontested master of song and verse, couldn't even steady his voice. "Well. I saw - I see. When I look at.... L-luthien. She looks like Luthien." Maglor froze still. "I - I suppose," he backpedaled. "A bit like her."

"No," Maglor breathed. "No, you're right. She does. Quite entirely. She _is_." His flesh went numb and tingling all over. "She must be."

"I don't think so," Daeron said slowly. "I'd feel it. I'd know her. Even after this long." He shook his head. "No, but there's a... a resonance. I think this must be one of hers... her descendant. Her many-times granddaughter. The blood of a Maia...."

A great lightness took Maglor. "Of course! Oh, yes! Yes it does fit. I see it," he mused dreamily. "It's perfect."

Daeron's brow crinkled. "Perfect? Were you.. what, were you hoping for something like this? Was this some sort of plan?" His voice rose sharply. "Yes, a fulfillment of your destiny?" Maglor flushed. "Oh, I see it! It's the perfect story. A truly epic narrative." He took a shaky breath. "Your family's legacy. The child your brother hoped to get of her - "

"Oh, don't you dare," Maglor cut him off with a warning hiss. "If you ever..."

Daeron clenched his fists, readying subconsciously for a fight. Then he stopped short. His eyes widened. "Do you know what she looked like? Did you ever even see her?" he shouted. "You know nothing! Nothing about my life, nothing about her, nothing about - " 

"I was under the impression that your life was here, now." Eyes narrowed, Maglor's words came quiet but fierce. "No, I didn't have the pleasure of meeting her." He yearned to say, _or her bitch of a mother_. He didn't say, _but I had dealings enough with her feckless son_. He held his composure enough to keep the echo of it from his mind. "But I can recognize a refrain. The Song is neverending and constantly resounding, ever repeating and renewing."

"The _Song_?" Daeron scoffed. "It's about you! Always you." He shook his head in disgust. Striding out the door, he ignored what must have been a really cutting retort. He had to go for a drive.

He didn't come back until two days later, and neither of them brought up the subject again.

 

\---

 

Weeks later, Maglor sobbed brokenly into his husband's shoulder while Daeron bore the news of Gwen's passing with calm acceptance. "Oh, my dear, my heart," Daeron murmured.

"I loved her!" Maglor gasped.

"It's never easy," Daeron said, as much to himself as to the other. "They blink out so quickly. But we have the baby." A quiet smile crept slowly onto his face. "We have a daughter."

Maglor snuffled and nodded. He didn't seem much comforted by the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2018. I'm mywoesaregranular on Tumblr ♥


	3. Chapter 3

Maglor lay on his back, holding the chubby baby in the air. "Happy! Baby! Flying! Baby! Whoosh! Zoom!" he chanted, bouncing her with every word. She shrieked and laughed, and he grinned back up at her. He'd spent the morning in much the same way: making nonsense rhymes while she giggled, dancing a merry polka with her down the hall and back, jostling her on his knee while he sang an ages-old hunting song. 

"Are you sure that's entirely suitable?" Daeron had mused.

"It's only a little bloodthirsty," Maglor sniffed, "and she'll soon be old enough for her own pony." 

"Men don't grow up _that_ quickly, babe." 

Maglor paused ever so slightly. "Well, I've never observed one from the very beginning. But she has an excellent seat!" To prove this he wobbled his leg wildly back and forth. Lucy was deeply thrilled by this, lurching side to side as she shrilled in glee but never quite toppling off her mount.

 

\---

 

Softly the alarm app on Daeron's phone hummed to life. Designed to sense the body's biorhythms and provide a gentle, personalized wake-up cycle, it gradually called Daeron back to the world. A deep breath turned into a powerful yawn, and he sat up halfheartedly and blinked a few times. He'd gone to sleep snugged up against Maglor's back, but as usual he'd traveled in the night and curled into himself on the far edge of the bed. He rolled over, propping himself on one elbow behind his husband. "Sweetheart," he whispered in Maglor's ear. Daeron kissed his bare shoulder. "Good morning, my love."

The cheerful birdsong rising gently from Daeron's phone was beginning to register with Maglor. They'd learned long ago that Maglor didn't react well to being woken suddenly. He didn't flail and kick out anymore, or roll off the bed landing in a feral crouch, or jerk upright with fists raised and murder in his eyes. Still if they weren't careful, or if it'd been a bad night for dreams, he'd wake flushed with adrenaline and shaking, and it took him some time to steady his breathing. 

Today he smiled vaguely, hummed in contentment, and half-twisted to lie mostly on his back. He tucked his face into the crook of Daeron's arm and settled himself for a long lie-in.

"Sweetie, come on. She'll be up soon and it is your turn."

"What? No, she can... she'll be fine." Maglor yawned hugely, giving a little squeak at the end. "She can play quietly for a few minutes." His voice trailed off into a satisfied sigh.

Daeron smiled wryly. "No, you know that's a bad plan." He sat up, jostling Maglor from his warm nest. "Now up you get. I'm cooking and clearly I can't leave you alone." He pulled at the blanket Maglor had tucked up around his face. 

Maglor gave the smallest whine of disappointment. "Fine, yes, I'm getting there." With a great sigh he slung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched, his face contorting as he twisted stiffly. 

Daeron flopped over on the bed, his head next to Maglor's thigh. "I can hear your hip creaking. You're getting old," he observed dryly.

Maglor smiled lazily. "I've been old most of my life. It's not my fault you're mentally still a child." Daeron gave him a shove and sat back up. "I see you're not denying it."

From down the hall floated an animated babble, growing louder. "See, there she goes," prodded Daeron. "She'll be climbing down soon." That invariably meant finding her way into who knew what cupboard or crevice or minor crisis, who knew how, and then screaming until she made herself sick. "One day we'll find her on the roof."

Maglor extracted a t-shirt from the untidy clump in his dresser drawer. He pulled it on while Daeron was still gazing thoughtfully into their generous walk-in closet. He walked down the hall into Lucy's room. She was standing at the rail of her crib, leaning forward over the edge to peer at the floor, considering how much hassle it would be to clamber down.

"Good morning, Lucy-Lou," he warbled. Lucy thrust her arms up, letting go of the crib rail, then lost her balance and plopped backwards. Surprised but undeterred, she reached up, demanding to be lifted. A tender smile lit in his eyes. He hoisted her up into the air, letting her fall back into his arms, but this morning she was having none of that. She gave a squawk and a grumble.

"Alright, alright, no funny business. Got it." He sighed. "You're the one who sets all the rules. I know." He changed her diaper, holding one side of an idle conversation while she groused and squirmed. His mouth supplied a languid patter, but his brain was still unpleasantly sluggish. He pulled pants and a shirt from her little chest of drawers, not caring at all whether they matched; his husband would change her outfit without hesitation if he considered it less than perfectly put together. Or Maglor's.

 _Socks or no socks?_ he asked himself. No socks. She hated socks. And Daeron would insist on socks, but only when they went out.

Lifting her and managing not to stumble as another powerful yawn overtook him, Maglor headed downstairs. Daeron met him at the kitchen doorway with a mug of coffee, deftly swapping it for his daughter. "Here now," he chided as she tried to wrestle away from him, "we're not having it today. You've been moody all week and I know your teeth hurt, oorf!" Lucy kicked him in the ribs, pushing off against him and nearly toppling herself to the floor. "Hey!" 

"Oh, put her down," Maglor said into his coffee. He rolled his eyes. "Nothing's going to make her happy today." 

Daeron deposited her in her highchair and buckled her in before she could do more than bounce angrily. She wailed, fully prepared to make as big a fuss as she needed to, but Daeron handed her the bottle he'd already prepared. She grabbed it and began drinking, still eyeing him a little suspiciously, but currently mollified. Maglor took the dish of oatmeal and fruit Daeron handed him and slid into the chair next to the baby.

"What's for the grownups?" he asked as he readied a spoonful. Lucy wasn't yet convinced that she should put the bottle down; she was now gnawing at the nipple as much as drinking from it.

"More of the same," replied Daeron as he dropped blueberries and a generous dollop of fig preserves into their own bowls. "I _thought_ we had eggs."

Maglor shot him a sour look. "Oh, I'm sure. Whose fault is that?"

"It really is both of you this morning, isn't it? I'm not going to let you trick me into ruining my own mood." He already sounded just a little touchier than he wanted to admit. Daeron laid two more steaming bowls of porridge down, and a little pitcher of cream, then brought his own coffee over to the table. 

Lucy had realized she was hungry, and had decided that some warm oatmeal would suit her just fine. She leaned obligingly toward Maglor as he lazily spooned breakfast into her mouth. He rested his head in his other hand, clearly failing to work up the interest in beginning his day.

Daeron took another long look at him, and a long sip of his coffee, and sighed quietly. "Another bad night?"

Maglor's head was already drooping, the spoon hanging loosely near Lucy's mouth. She grabbed for it, squeezing a handful of banana between her fingers and smearing as much onto her nose as into her mouth.

\---

A few hours later Maglor woke up on the sofa, hugging a pillow, a light blanket tucked around his hips but kicked thoroughly away from his ankles. He felt much better this time around, his head clear and his limbs no longer unwieldy. "Good morning again," he called. No one answered. He checked the clock: it was just past noon.

He peeked into the kitchen, and through the window he could see Daeron and Lucy playing on the porch behind the house. It was windy; Daeron had indeed changed his daughter's clothes, bundling her into a fluffy green sweater set. She didn't seem grouchy at all anymore, just cozy and cheerful.

It really had been a difficult night; they often were this time of year. Autumn reminded him of the last few years of the War of Wrath, when Beleriand was dying, when there was little foliage and plenty of mud, and the sun wasn't seen. Being alone made it worse, even if it was alone in a warm house. He marched out to his husband and declared, "I have decided I'm going to have a good day. It's been a while since we've been out with the boys, all together."

Lucy was clutching Daeron's face, more or less gently, with one fist full of his hair. She stood on his lap and nattered very seriously at him, then tried to eat his nose. Daeron tipped his head back away from her as Maglor came to stand beside them, hands confidently on his hips. 

Daeron quirked an eyebrow. "That sounds rather like you want to take her to the bar. Well don't, not today, Ladies' Night isn't until Thursday. Oh, wait...."

Maglor punched him in the shoulder. "Idiot. She's barely even met the horses, and I wouldn't mind a little ride. If we didn't have to board them - "

"I'm not getting into this with you. I'm teaching again, and you're composing, and there are not enough hours in the day. We'd have to hire a babysitter for her or the horses, and I know you don't trust anyone with Lucy. So, essentially we did hire a babysitter for them." 

Maglor huffed, still ready to be a little sulky. 

"But yes, of course," Daeron continued, "it sounds good to me. But if you get to ride, and I know 'a nice ride' means a few hours, then what are we going to do? I'm sure she's big enough to sit with me and be led, slowly, but she'll get bored being held still."

Maglor grinned wickedly. "I figured you could whistle her a little tune as she danced beneath the trees."

\---

Daeron had to change into more suitable clothes, of course. "No, I know you're ready, but I'm not going to get these," he gestured to his artfully distressed jeans, "all mucky and sweaty and torn to pieces."

Maglor snagged a string with his little finger. "Torn to pieces? Too late there."

Lucy fussed and whined all the way into her car seat, whereupon she began screaming and drumming her heels against the seat, but she lulled herself to sleep after less than ten minutes in the car. "God, she needed that nap. I didn't think teething could be so ridiculous. Put in Joni Mitchell," Daeron instructed. 

Maglor obligingly changed CDs and closed his own eyes, smiling as he tipped his head back against the headrest.

They sang as they drove, now in a wistful murmur, now crooning and soaring. 

_"I'm gonna get a boat_  
_And we can row it_  
_If you ever get the notion_  
_To be needed by me"_

Their voices curled around the words and each other, embroidering harmonies on the tapestry of Being. The air around them spun fractals, intangible, crystalline, ancient. For these brief moments they existed out of time, fulfilled in themselves and each other.

As they turned off the main road and came up the long drive to the farm Lucy roused but sat calmly, drowsily enjoying the approaching scent of horses, and of the earth slowly settling down for its yearly rest.

\---

Maglor and his chestnut gelding Helios were patently delighted to see each other again. "Hello my old friend. Are you well? Are they treating you well here? Not as well as you deserve, I'm certain." Helios whickered in response, and Maglor rested his face against the horse's elegant forehead. They spent a long minute just breathing together. Maglor then set about giving him a good grooming, muttering cheerfully in a lilting patois of Middle French and severely eroded Quenya.

Daeron spotted his horse grazing not far off. "Sandoval," he called, and the pretty roan lifted his head. Daeron whistled sharply, but the horse was already heading his way. "Here he comes, sweetheart!" Lucy gabbled excitedly as he approached. Wary for only a moment, Sandoval found Lucy's scent vaguely familiar, but more importantly he smelled both Daeron and Maglor on her. "Yes, you remember this one. You remember Lucy. She's so glad to see you!" The horse nickered mildly and Lucy reached toward one large, fringed eye. 

Daeron smoothly altered her trajectory and guided her hand to politely bump the horse's muzzle, fingers curled in. He then helped her in stroking Sandoval's cheek, and neck, and nose. "Feel how coarse his mane is?" he invited. She clutched at the mane but didn't tug it - at least not too hard. Despite her apparent consideration Daeron had to ease her fingers apart when a little snarl threatened to twist itself into a desperate knot. "Yes, Sandy, we're going to give you such a nice brushing in just a minute."

Lucy prattled to the horse, good-naturedly but starting to get louder. "Softly," Daeron encouraged her. She seemed to understand and modulated her tone to a sort of cooing burble. Daeron's heart practically glowed. He said, "Sandoval will always be your good friend, steadfast and true, as long as you treat him with respect and kindness." 

She nodded gravely to the horse, it seemed, and Daeron shifted her to his other hip. She leaned against Sandoval with her arms spread wide across his neck, embracing him unreservedly.

Turning in search of his husband, Daeron saw that Maglor had slipped a light treeless saddle onto his horse and had already trotted off. "Oh sweetness, heart of my heart, you bastard! Get your ass back here!" he yelled, laughing in fond frustration. 

Lucy startled. She'd been gazing raptly at Sandoval, who'd dropped his head to nibble on a convenient bit of grass. His head snapped up as well, unnerved by Daeron's outburst. She yelled as well, and it might almost have been the word _bastard_. 

Maglor circled back around, posting fluidly. He cocked his head at the pair. "I told you I wanted to ride," he said, placid and remorseless. "What did you think I meant?"

"I thought you meant you wanted Lucy to spend some time with them." He sighed. "Come here and let her talk for a minute or two with Helios, then we'll have a good visit with Sandy, and play, and you can race off into the wind." He indicated the horizon with some theatricality.

Helios didn't love Daeron quite as much as Maglor did, and he was as eager to run as his rider, but Maglor's presence kept him calm as he whuffed at Lucy. He was every bit as happy to be patted and stroked as Sandoval. He was restive, however, and Maglor soon eased him away from Lucy before he could get too fidgety. Maglor swung him around, clucking and urging him on, and as Lucy watched in fascination he broke into a canter and disappeared back over the hill. 

\---

Daeron always enjoyed thunderstorms. Sometimes they invigorated him, sometimes they calmed him, but his favorites came mid-afternoon, bringing with them a warm, extended twilight. He and Maglor would sit on the porch, and Maglor would let himself be lulled to sleep in his arms. Today one announced itself early, distant thunder approaching inexorably. Lightning flickered inside heavy clouds long before rain started falling. When it did it dropped down suddenly and powerfully, drenching Maglor as he raced down the front steps. "I left the car window down!" 

Laughter burst in Daeron's chest. He retrieved Lucy from her favorite spot by the sofa where she could stand and look out the window. She loved the outdoors; watching from inside wasn't as exciting as staggering and tumbling in the grass, but she would ramble in her baby way to the trees and birds through the glass. Once she'd been able to crawl with some competence they'd needed to have the porch screened in. 

Daeron scooped her up off her blanket and spun around twice, careening out the back door. She leaned into the spin and giggled. He helped her into the play saucer on the porch and sat in one of the wicker chairs. His skin tingled in warning of a lightning flash, and he closed his eyes and relaxed into the slow answering rumble.

Maglor's normally exuberant curls were limp and soggy when he trudged back up onto the back porch, his clothes sodden. He loomed up behind Daeron, draping himself over his husband's shoulders. 

"Aaagh!" Daeron shouted, cringing away from Maglor's laughing embrace. "That's awful, you're awful, get off!"

Maglor curled around him to place a damp kiss in his ear, shaking his dripping hair into Daeron's face. Lucy scolded loudly, and mashed all the musical buttons on her play console at once. 

"You're going to get it next!" he cried. Stretching out his arms like a movie monster, he staggered over to her, growling. She squealed and bounced up and down, trying to jump. She protested volubly though when he tried to pick her up, twisting away from his wet shirt yelling, "Nanananana!" _No_ was her new favorite word, keeping company with _Dode_ for down. She also enjoyed _Bam_ which they couldn't quite yet interpret but which she declared specifically and emphatically through the day.

"Oh, all right, I suppose I'd better wring myself out." Maglor tipped forward into an effortless handstand and lazily kicked his legs back and forth in the air. Lucy howled with delight. "Did it work?" His shirt flopped down and crumpled around his chin. "Is it working?"

Slouching down in his chair, warm inside and out, Daeron laughed and laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot thank Lairenuriel (musinshadw on Tumblr) enough for their invaluable help and astonishing support with this, but I can keep trying!

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2018. I'm mywoesaregranular on Tumblr ♥


End file.
